Gemini's Solstice
by Lumiere de Venise
Summary: It hurts and it binds you terribly, but you say nothing. You are wiser than to talk back to the Empress. (Toxic PsiioniicxCondesce. Angst. Dark. Sad. Happy Summer Solstice day!)


**[AN:]**** Me and my best friend could not sleep last night and she reminded me of Summer Solstice, and I asked her to spin a wheel that contained Homestuck characters and give me the first two names. She got Jadesprite twice so she had to spin it and she got the Psiionic and Cans but I was like: lol I will do Psiionic and Condense instead. This was meant to be some 300 to 500 drabble but, as you can see, it grew into much more heh. Enjoy, and happy Summer Solstice day!**

**[Title:] Gemini's Solstice**

**[Fandom:] Homestuck**

**[Genre:] Angst/Tragedy.**

**[Prompt:] Besides being yet another fanfiction I've done for my "A Fic A Day" Summer challenge (Since the Solstice was this day and summer is determined by this, this fic is when the challenge technically starts but whatever) the prompt was to mention the summer solstice since it was written on the day of the summer solstice. Also had to be finished written before 11:54, which is when the solstice starts around me. **

**[Ship:] PsiioniicxCondesce**

**[Rating:] T for racial-slurs and suggestions of abuse and implications of a forced "romance" between Psiioniic and the Condesce.**

**[Summary:] It hurts and it binds you terribly, but you say nothing. You are wiser than to talk back to the Empress. (Toxic PsiioniicxCondesce. Angst. Dark. Sad.)**

**[Word Count:] 1,447 words/2.6 Pages.**

**[Disclaimer:] I do not own Homestuck, nor am I or will I ever profit from this fan work.**

**(BTW, the encryption parts are not mistakes—they were meant to be like that. Translations at the end.)**

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**{oooOooo}**

IT IS SCARLET AND IT IS SAPPHIRE that spirals out of you. It decorates your body. There is not much yellow you bore that is not overshadowed by the thick threads of the stronger, more vibrant and neon primary colors.

The beginnings and endings of the grays and blacks of yourself are swallowed up, stoned, hardened by fuchsia veins that slither around with deleterious and domineering doom. Through all this, though, it is hard to see anything in a color that is not the two colors that signal your powers being absorbed.

**(Æú÷²à÷óáýü²ûá²ð÷ñóçá÷²ëýç₋à÷²ó²þýå¿ðþýýö²óüö²ûæ₋á²ýùóë²ûô²à÷ö²óüö²ðþç÷²âýçà²ýçæ²ýô²ëýç²çüæûþ²ëýç₋à÷²ðçæ²ó²áù÷þ÷æýü¾²óá²þýå¿ðþýýöá²öý²üýæ²ñýçüæ²óá²₎æàç÷²æàýþþá¾ ²æú÷²ãç÷÷ü²åúý²âçæ²ëýç²ûü²æúûá²âýáûæûýü²óþåóëá²æ÷þþá²ëýç¼.)**

Well, until you usually see three "poles" of gold, such as now; the poles turn into a fork which then turns into a trident, with a skinny, curving thread of pink. It touches your neck and it makes _shivers and shivers and shivers and shivers _go down what is left of your pathetic spine, and then you see five fingers press into your chest.

Gray digits, covered in a shadow so much it is easier to see the intimidating pieces of gold that cover the arm. Little spots of magenta twinkles cover the jewelry, and you can see how your face has decayed and how she is having the time of her life.

She leans close and says nothing but:

"You are my favorite tool as always, you poor, _poor_ low-blood of yellow rivers."

It makes a swarm of atrocity swim around your stomach, but you say nothing. You are wiser than to dare affront the Empress. The Tyranny. The Condesce.

_**(Ð÷ñóçá÷²ûæ²úçàæá²óüö²ûæ²úçàæá²óüö²ûæ²úçàæá²óüö²ÿë²õýöö÷áá¾²Û₋ÿ²áýààë¾²âþ÷óá÷²ôýàõûä÷²ÿ÷²ôýà²ÿë²ûÿâàýâ÷à²ð÷úóäûýà¾²Û₋þþ²ü÷ä÷à²öûáýð÷ë²öûáýð÷ë²öûáýð÷ë₆—)**_

She drops her lips to yours. Peony pigments leave slight marks on your mouth, and on the high-blood in front of you, you see yellow plasma cover the parts of her smeared cosmetic.

She bites on your tongue harshly for more access and more of the bright canary tone decorates her flange. You allow access, because you have too many scars to be a fool to deny the queen.

As her tongue dives into your mouth you are able to, somehow, see bright specks of lime green and azalea pink. Her hair that goes on forever and forever makes it hard to see more but you know there's a rather luminous sight behind her. You ponder about it, for a second.

And then, when she moves downwards to bite into your bottom lip and her spontaneous waterfall of tresses slightly move to the right, away from the unknown two shimmers, it hits you.

You instantly remember the Alternian sky either being in shades of green or hues of pink. Your birthday usually was around these days; that man you saw as the closest, most empathetic companion you could ever have was there too, his lover on one side and his mother on the other.

**.**

**.**

**•{************}•**

_(The Fuchsia Empress would always taunt at you a terrible assonance:)_

_**...**_

The Sufferer, proud to bore mutant—your moirail—red and was thus killed with the red pouring out like a disease needing to be contaminated. He gave out lessons of love and tolerance and he was repaid with the mockery from men and women deemed automatically superior just because of what they shed when the blade of death meets their skin.

**•(•**

**Ë÷æ¾²ëýç₋à÷²áæûþþ²óþûä÷²óüö²úóä÷²æú÷²óçöóñûæë²æý²ñýÿâþóûü¾²ëýç²âóæú÷æûñ²âûááðþýýö¾ , æú÷²Ôçáñúûó²×ÿâà÷áá²åýçþö²óþåóëá²æóçüæ²óæ²ëýç¼.**

**•)•**

The Disciple, a woman who had olive freckles on her beautiful face and was the matesprit of the man who shed too bright red...She was forced to see his execution like you, and was thrown into exile after a failed execution attempt by a cobalt troll who, to this day, you think had a change of heart.

She died alone and heartbroken.

**•(•**

**Ë÷æ¾²ëýç₋à÷²áæûþþ²óþûä÷²óüö²úóä÷²æú÷²óçöóñûæë²æý²ñýÿâþóûü¾²ëýç²âóæú÷æûñ²âûááðþýýö¾ , æú÷²Ôçáñúûó²×ÿâà÷áá²åýçþö²óþåóëá²æóçüæ²óæ²ëýç¼.**

**•)•**

The Dolorosa, an emerald-lipped mother who not only taught the Sufferer family love beyond the four petty quadrants but treated you as if you were another son—what did the woman do to deserve having the thickest of abnormal, stinging vermillion? To be reduced to a slave?

She died by the vicious jealousy of the Dualscar, as the Dolorosa was targeted by the Mindfang.

**•(•**

**Ë÷æ¾²ëýç₋à÷²áæûþþ²óþûä÷²óüö²úóä÷²æú÷²óçöóñûæë²æý²ñýÿâþóûü¾²ëýç²âóæú÷æûñ²âûááðþýýö¾ , æú÷²Ôçáñúûó²×ÿâà÷áá²åýçþö²óþåóëá²æóçüæ²óæ²ëýç¼.**

**•)•**

You wish you didn't know all this, but the Condesce loved to hear your cries, hear your heart ache, hear the powers come out of the dying out things you call eyes. It was more of a drive for her than your powers. You hate it all.

**•(•**

**Ë÷æ¾²ëýç₋à÷²áæûþþ²óþûä÷²óüö²úóä÷²æú÷²óçöóñûæë²æý²ñýÿâþóûü¾²ëýç²âóæú÷æûñ²âûááðþýýö¾ ,æú÷²ÿóü²ûü²æú÷²à÷ôþ÷ñæûýü²ýô²ú÷à²ø÷å÷þá²åýçþö²óþåóëá²à÷ÿûüö²ëýç¼**

**•)•**

_**...**_

_(You used to shout at her to shut her mouth but, in time, the pain and scars helped you humble yourself.)_

**•{************}•**

**.**

**.**

Looking at the two moons make you hate it even more. The black of space, tiny stars of white hope. It was something that would've comforted you at first but, now, it just reminds you of how the good of your species is too little, too weakened by the maliciousness that your people throw aroun—

"Ah, Psiioniic..." she draws out, and suddenly you realize that she had stopped entangling her tongue with yours and decided to caress your warm chin, "you seem to of been interested in the beauty of the Alternian Solstice?"

She looks behind her and chortles; you look behind her and frown. The little optimism you found in the sight would be forever tarnished with her tampering of venality.

"I remember you once told me, in the beginning when you were foolish enough to think that you could overpower me, you would ramble on about how those Solstice were when you decided to be a follower of that foolish mutant boy..."

Her eyes move back to you and they wave off an aura of mischief, of heartlessness. "How foolish of you, my greatest work of art, to think that a group consisting of an abomination and his equally-naive followers of common blood would, even if I was limbless and without any of the five senses, would be slain by the likes of _you._"

You don't know why, and you definitely don't comprehend how you would have the shameless factor to say it, but you respond to the female dictator, "Yes, you are right, )(er Imperious Condescension."

Her eyes slightly bulge out at your statement, as you usually don't respond or at least give a small glance of, not exactly defiance, but of holding on to the reverie of the man the queen herself relished (and still relishes to this day) in his death.

She doesn't take long to smile her cruel grin, though, and she wraps her hair around your body. Shame circles in your brain and even the reflection of yourself in her jewelry was looking down at you in repugnance.

Before dwelling into another kiss she tells you, "This, my dear pitiful troll, my dear Psiioniic...This is why, if you were perhaps a more tolerable blood, we could've been somewhat of "lovers." Alas, you are a low-blood and will cease the day only when I am done with you. Let us rejoice in this Solstice!"

You taste fuchsia but you don't respond. You notice she moved to the right significantly and is eyeing you with a sadistic gleam. You try to ignore it. You try to ignore the "gold" you have that rivals hers in color, as hers is bought while yours is currently flowing down your cheeks and stings your eyes.

What you can't ignore, however, is the gleam of the two moons behind you.

Splashes of green and pink give out a formation where, as you try to ignore long and slightly leaning-back horns in front of you, are little nubs of horns.

The horns lead to a face that is of a gray surface with the brightest red you've ever seen, with a body positioned as if it was high above and nailed to its position.

Crying two women are on either side of him, one of a green more close to yellow and the other a darker shade of natural green. A necklace of two numbers that together form a circle-like shape in the older female's troll hand is covered in red. Out of nowhere, the two ladies fade away, the necklace burning into thin air.

Before he too vanishes, the man looks at you with eyes of betrayal and you feel your heart sink down, and when you look hard enough, ignoring how depraved you look in the gleam of the Condesce's tiara's gem—

You also see a man you knew long ago, a blue eye on one side and a red eye on the other, his hair smooth and holding a scripture of the man of the cross; he looks at you with contempt and shakes his head at you before he vanishes away, and it burns into your memory for years to come.

**{oooOooo}**

**[Ûæ²ûá²ð÷ææ÷à²æý²øçáæ²ýð÷ë²Ú÷à²Ûÿâ÷àûýçá²Ñýüö÷áñ÷üáûýü²æú÷ü²æàë²æý²ð÷óæ²æú÷²ö÷óö²úýàá÷²ýô²úýâ÷¼.]**

**{oooOooo}**

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**[Translation of Crypt Text:]**

**1: **"The reason is because you're a low-blood and it's okay if red and blue pour out of you until you're but a skeleton, as low-bloods do not count as 'true trolls,' the queen who put you in this position always tells you."

**2.** "_Because it hurts and it hurts_ _and it hurts and, my goddess, I'm sorry, please forgive me for my improper behavior, I'll never disobey disobey disobey_—"

**3-5.** (They're the same text.) "_'Yet, you're still alive and have the audacity to complain, you pathetic piss-blood,' _the Fuschia Empress would always taunt at you."

**6.** "_'Yet, you're still alive and have the audacity to complain, you pathetic piss-blood,'_ the man in the reflection of her jewels would always remind you."

**7.** "It is better to just obey )(er Imperious Condescension then try to beat the dead horse of hope."

**[Ending AN:]**** Never did this crypt text before. Was not going to add it but I felt that it went well with Psiionic. I could've uploaded this a little bit early but, where I live, the Solstice starts at 11:54 AM so I felt like it would fit to do it around that time. Thanks for reading! My goal to upload a fic a day for the summer is doing well so fad. Ciao.**


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